


Stubborn

by wanderstar



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, I have way too many feelings about these old coots, archiving an old old fic, both of them put way too much pressure on themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderstar/pseuds/wanderstar
Summary: Optimus returns from a mission while Ratchet is alone at base, and the medic is horrified by the number of injuries he has sustained.





	Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very old and was written while the show was still airing (around six years ago), but at the same time, I'm still pretty happy with it so I'm going ahead and archiving it as a stand alone piece (moving things here from tumblr in case things go boom).

“Ratchet, I am in need of a groundbridge.”

The autobot medic looked up from his work, the metal he had been welding fading to a dull red. “He’s early…” he mumbled. And he was - Optimus wasn’t even halfway through the time he’d said he’d be gone. Setting down his materials Ratchet walked over to the groundbridge control, pulling the lever and opening the gate.

The first thing he noticed when Optimus came through the bridge was the groan of overworked metal. And then he saw what was causing it.

“Optimus!”

Rushing over Ratchet caught Optimus just as his left leg gave way, and he was aghast to see just how many injuries were spread across the autobot leader’s chassis. Taking one of Optimus’ arms over his shoulders he put his own arm around mech’s back for support, making sure to get as much pressure off the injured leg as possible. The pain on Optimus’ face eased ever so slightly, and he gave a grateful sigh. “Thank you, old friend.” Ratchet simply shifted his grip on the arm so they could start walking, already mentally running through how to treat the injuries.

“Come on, let’s get you to the medical bay.”

While it was a relatively short walk, Optimus was trembling by the time they arrived and nearly collapsed onto the berth. He still managed to sit up, but it was a close thing, back hunched and servos resting in his lap. Ratchet gathered up his tools and began to clean a wound on the shoulder, glancing at Optimus’ downcast face.

“…what happened?”

Optimus shifted slightly, body creaking. “I discovered a large energon deposit.” His servos twitched as Ratchet extracted some shrapnel from his shoulder. “However, the Decepticons were already there. But I did not realize this until I came to the heart of their operation.” He closed his optics, going silent.

Ratchet stopped in his cleaning, staring in shock. “You fought an entire Decepticon mining detail?” As he looked over Optimus he found himself answering his own question, the injuries now morphing into recognizable forms. Numerous blaster marks. Gashes opened up by shrapnel, some with it still inside. Insecticon claw marks. Less identifiable was severe scorching around the tires, but Optimus’ next words answered this question too.

“No. The energon detonated during the fight. I managed to escape but most were killed in the blast.” His voice was tired, but there was no trace of fear or shock. He had been in so many battles over the stellar cycles, forced to see so many horrible things that something like this was just part of a heartbreaking normal. And Ratchet knew it.

Welding shut the wound on the shoulder the medic forced himself to look at the left leg, and his spark sank. A trail of energon was leaking down the leg, originating from between two tires and slowly dripping onto the floor. Though he could only see the edge of it, it soon became clear that there was a large chunk of jagged metal jammed behind the tires, and in such a way that each step would have forced it farther into the leg. The leg would be fine once it was treated, but getting the metal out and treating the wound would be… painful. Extremely painful.

“Ratchet.”

He looked up from his examination, part of him already knowing what was going to be said next.

“Once again, I… think it would be best if we kept this to ourselves.”

Resigning himself Ratchet lowered his head and gave a small nod, the reasons for this already discussed many times before. Nothing had come out of the mission. Telling the team would only worry them, and there was nothing to be gained from it being done. They had their own burdens to bear, and Optimus considered this to be his alone.

Ratchet had fought him at first. Told him that they needed to be open with each other, to support each other and get through these hard times together. But he knew that in the end Optimus felt like he had already put them through too much. That he would take any chance he could to feel like he was sparing them from further pain.

It was only Ratchet’s position as medic that had allowed him to see this. The team knew Optimus gave his all and more for them, but there were always the failed missions they didn’t see. The horrible wounds that Ratchet repaired quietly on his own. He was good enough at his job that team sometimes never even realized the injuries had occurred. The medic despised that fact in a way, but the alternative would be giving Optimus less than the best care. That was never an option.

Ratchet worked. He listened. He advised, he comforted, he treated, and he helped all he could.

It never felt like enough.

Standing up the medic began to gather materials for the more complex procedure, feeling Optimus’ optics following him. “Your leg will be fine for a little while longer as long as you don’t move it, but I’m going to have to induce stasis lock to treat it,” he said, laying things out. “You will also need to rest for awhile afterwards.” Ratchet paused, gripping the edge of the table. “That means no missions for that time.”

Even before Optimus spoke Ratchet braced himself for the worst, thinking he was going to hear the response he hated. It was for this reason that Optimus never even got to reply. All he was able to do was open his mouth before the medic’s stress and worry boiled over, his fist slamming down onto the table.

“AND DON’T TELL ME YOU CAN’T AFFORD IT! You’re not helping anyone if you cripple yourself!” Ratchet closed his optics, head bowing and fists clenched. “I don’t care if the others see you this time. Please, just… remember that your own well being matters too.”

He waited for the protests, but none came. Looking up, he was surprised to find that Optimus was smiling at him.

“I was merely going to say that I trust your judgment Ratchet.” The autobot leader looked around at the base for a moment, lingering as he took in the medic’s current state. “And I do not think it would hurt if you took your own advice my friend.”

Ratchet unconsciously jumped, trying form a coherent response but failing. Instead he began to bustle around with his materials, mumbling about never leaving base and not being nearly as important. Optimus gave a resigned chuckle, placing a servo on his shoulder. “But thank you.”

“Yes yes,” he said, scratching the back of his head and straightening his tools.

Preparations done Ratchet helped Optimus lie down on the berth, gently guiding up the leg as he did so. “I will be back in the field soon enough,” Optimus said matter o factly as he was hooked up to stasis, and Ratchet cracked a smile. This damn bot never gave himself enough credit… but he also didn’t give up. The medic watched as he slipped into stasis, optics drifting shut and pain falling away.

Ratchet didn’t always feel like he was doing enough. He probably never would.

But at least for now, he could do what he could.


End file.
